Yudhishthira, the wise king, sat surrounded by his brothers, his heart heavy with concern and uncertainty. Reflecting on the nature of the body, he mused, “This body, made from the five elements, is bound by time, actions, and the ever-changing modes of nature. How can one protect another? It is as impossible as a person seized by a serpent saving someone else.” The world, he observed, was governed by the law of the strong prevailing over the weak: the handless become food for those with hands, the footless for the four-footed, and everywhere, life feeds upon life. But amid this impermanence, Yudhishthira remembered the Supreme Lord, the one Self within all beings, who perceives Himself by His own power, dwelling both inside and outside every creature. This Lord, through His own illusion, appears to us, and it is He who, as the creator and sustainer, has now taken the form of Time itself to bring about the destruction of the enemies of the gods. The divine task has been fulfilled, and now the Lord remains, awaiting the completion of what is yet to come. Until that time, Yudhishthira and his brothers were to observe and wait, for as long as the Lord lingered on earth. Narada, the celestial sage, then revealed the fate of Dhritarashtra, the blind king. Together with his brother Vidura and his faithful wife Gandhari, Dhritarashtra had journeyed south of the Himalayas to the hermitage of the sages. There, where the sacred river Ganga divided herself into seven streams for the pleasure of the seven ancient seers, Dhritarashtra performed his rituals. He bathed at the appointed times and offered oblations into the fire, living on water alone. His mind was tranquil, free from all worldly desires. Through steadfast practice, Dhritarashtra mastered posture and breath, withdrew his senses, and, by meditating on Lord Hari, cleansed himself of passion and ignorance. Merging his mind with knowledge, dissolving the sense of individuality into the Self, and finally placing that Self in Brahman—just as the space within a pot merges into the vast sky—he abided in peace. Having destroyed the last traces of illusion, restraining his senses and mind, and giving up all food, he remained unmoving like a pillar, having renounced all actions. Narada proclaimed, “O King, in five days, Dhritarashtra will abandon his body, which will be reduced to ashes. As her husband’s body burns, Gandhari, steadfast in her devotion, will stand outside with her brother-in-law, witnessing his final moments.” Hearing this astonishing news, Vidura, torn between joy and sorrow, departed to visit holy places. Having spoken thus, Narada, accompanied by Tumburu, ascended to the heavens. Yudhishthira, holding Narada’s words close in his heart, found solace and released his grief. He pondered the wonders of the world, marveling at the unprecedented love that blossomed among the people of Vraja and their children for Vasudeva, the Soul of all. In that blessed land, where the unconquered Lord dwelled, even natural enemies—men and beasts—lived together as friends, and swift deer roamed peacefully among them. There, the supreme, non-dual, infinite Lord, whose knowledge is beyond comprehension, enacted His childhood pastimes as a cowherd boy. He searched for calves and played with His friends, a morsel of food in His hand, all while being observed by Brahma, the creator himself. Overwhelmed by the sight, Brahma descended from his celestial vehicle, bowing to the earth as if laying down a golden staff. He touched the Lord’s feet with the crowns of his four heads and, with tears of joy, bathed them in reverence. Rising again and again, Brahma repeatedly fell at Krishna’s feet, lost in remembrance of the Lord’s greatness he had once witnessed. Slowly, Brahma rose, wiped his eyes, and, bowing his neck, gazed upon Mukunda. With joined palms, trembling and overcome with emotion, he spoke in a voice choked with tears. Meanwhile, Sūta continued the tale: After Arjuna departed for Dvārakā, longing to see his relatives and to learn of Krishna’s deeds, several months passed with no word from him. Ominous signs began to appear, filling the hearts of the Pandavas with dread. Yudhishthira observed the fierce march of Time: the natural order seemed reversed, and people’s conduct grew worse, driven by anger, greed, and falsehood. Dealings became crooked, friendships tainted with deceit, and quarrels erupted among fathers, mothers, friends, brothers, and married couples. Witnessing these dire omens as unrighteousness spread, Yudhishthira spoke anxiously to his younger brother. “Arjuna was sent to Dvārakā, longing to see our relatives and to hear of Krishna’s deeds. Now, seven months have passed, and your younger brother Bhīmasena has not returned. I do not know why. Has the time foretold by the divine sage arrived, when the Lord will bring His earthly play to a close? For by His grace, we gained wealth, kingdom, wives, life, family, subjects, victory, and even the worlds themselves. “Look at these portents, O best of men—celestial, terrestrial, and bodily—so terrible and ominous, filling us with fear and confusion. My thighs, eyes, and arms tremble again and again, and my heart is unsteady; surely, something inauspicious approaches. The she-jackal, with fiery mouth, howls at the rising sun, and this dog cries at me as if afraid. Animals circle me on both sides, and even the horses weep. A pigeon, a messenger of death, and the owl, unsettle my mind, while the screeching of the night-owl brings sleeplessness and emptiness. “The quarters are filled with smoke, the horizons tremble with the mountains, and thunderclaps resound with lightning. The wind blows harshly, scattering dust and darkness, while the clouds rain blood in a dreadful manner. The sun’s brilliance is dimmed, and the planets collide in the sky; the heavens seem ablaze and crowded with strange beings. Rivers and streams are agitated, as are the lakes and people’s minds. Even fire fails to blaze, though fed with ghee. Calves do not drink from their mothers, nor do the cows yield milk; the cows, with tearful faces, cry, and the bulls in the herd do not rejoice. What will this time bring?” Thus, Yudhishthira, troubled by these omens and the absence of his beloved brother, pondered the mysterious workings of Time and the Lord’s will, awaiting what fate would unfold.